


Shadows in the Spotlight

by pistolgrip



Category: Persona 3, Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth
Genre: AU - whatever strikes my fancy, Alternate Universe, Both Arisatos exist at the same time and you can't stop me, Character Death - exactly who you expect, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: A collection of drabbles, at different times, in different places. Each chapter is a different 'verse unless stated, summary at the beginning of each.





	1. phases of the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinjiro is surprised to find his blood still runs warm.  
> [canon-divergent]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suspend disbelief all ye who enter
> 
> [prompts](http://trash-by-vouge.tumblr.com/post/132858041745) for the way you said "i love you":  
> 8\. as an apology  
> 23\. in a blissful sigh as you fall asleep

 

 

“Hey.” Shinjiro’s breath is raspy, like he’s just woken up, which is just about the farthest thing that's about to happen to him right now. His blood is warm. Maybe it’s just Akihiko’s hands. Shinjiro's days of being a space heater are long gone, after all.

“Shut the fuck up.”

At this, Shinjiro’s rasp turns into a hearty laugh, spitting blood into Akihiko’s face. “Red vest? Dressed for the occasion,” he mutters, wiping blood off his fingers onto Akihiko’s signature vest. “Don’t have to do laundry after this. Smart.”

Shinjiro knows that look. Akihiko wants desperately to—to punch him, to shut him up, to conserve his breath, because the Dark Hour is young, and somehow the Kirijos didn’t account for this; they have ointments for everything that a shadow could possibly throw at them and more, but they never anticipated harm by a human hand. But he’s frozen, unable to do anything but hold Shinjiro, who’s kind of at a weird angle, but everything hurts, so it doesn’t _really_ matter.

On the other hand, quite frankly, the atmosphere in the shitty back alley is unbearable. Shinjiro knows he’s dying. Hell, if he feels like being melodramatic, he’d say he was dying for a very long time, and it’s not as if the others ever stopped causing a ruckus once he finally came back.

And it’s not like he didn’t expect anything other than this. In fact, he had expected worse. To die at the Amada kid’s hands, where he belonged, an eye for an eye and all that. The kid does deserve to live, yeah, and it’s not like he regrets taking that bullet, either. But now, no one’s happy. He’s succeeded in destroying Ken’s life again, interfering in a revenge plan, even one as unbalanced as this. The team looks unhappy. Idiots. It’s not like he’d contributed anything other than despair.

And then, these two. “Look, we finally match,” Shinjiro continues, because for once in his life he feels like filling in the silence. “The red seniors.”

“Shinjiro—”

“Shinji—”

“Mitsuru, Aki,” he echoes, trying to make it sound mocking and failing spectacularly. “This is how things are supposed to be. Amada,” he turns, trying to address the younger boy. He’s trembling; the gun he holds is still clamped in his small hands, knuckles white. The safety’s still on. “No remorse. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?

“All out of your system? Good. You’re too young for this shit. Live life to the fullest, and all that.”

Amada still won’t speak. Figures. Kid’s seen death barely out of the grasp of his hands, he’s never experienced death at his own.

Kinda like someone else. Shinjiro turns his eyes (it’s getting hard to fully move his head now) back up to Akihiko, Mitsuru hovering behind him, the rest of the SEES team on the periphery of his vision. Nothing but red and green for miles. It’s nauseating, but that might be the impending death speaking.

“Come on, Shinji, what is this supposed to be? It takes more than one shot to kill you,” Akihiko yells frantically. He’s forgotten volume control again. Damn, he's really panicking now. Why?

Shinjiro’s ears hurt. _Calm down._ “Yeah, that’s why I was shot twice.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Akihiko might be getting quieter. Maybe a bit farther away. “You can’t. You fucking can’t.”

“Watch me—”

“Shinji, you’re _dying_ , stop for fuck’s sake!” Even the punch that Akihiko throws to the concrete by his head seems a little muted now. He keeps yelling, but Shinjiro takes his left wrist and runs his thumb over the now broken, bloody skin instead of listening to any of it.

“At least you’ve got friends that know how to heal you up too, now.” He can feel himself smile, which isn’t supposed to happen. Ah, fuck, he’s dying. He’s tried hard enough.

Somewhere off to the side, he knows the Arisatos are staring at him; one more steely-eyed than usual, jaw set in determination, the other digging crescents into her palms with how hard she’s clenching her fists. As if one nosy moron in his life wasn’t enough, life granted him two more.

Three, if he wants to count the dog. Four, because he can feel Yamagishi’s intent focus whenever he’s in the kitchen, scribbling notes on some notepad every time he moves a millimetre. Four and a half, because Mitsuru’s always been around, if he's honest. Five, if—

Fuck, he’s lived too nice of a life. Too selfish. There’s some sort of commotion going on around him now. Akihiko looks even more frantic than he did a second (a lifetime) ago, and Shinjiro feels like telling him to stop shaking him because it’s just making everything worse, but not even Mitsuru will lean out and hold him back anymore, hand laying uselessly on Akihiko’s shoulder.

Everyone’s huddled in a little closer, too, and he feels like he's suffocating. (Maybe that's just his lungs giving way or something.) Ken’s gun is laying at his feet, and he’s fallen to his knees, and the moon shining on him transforms the action into a prayer. Yukari’s potions are falling at her feet as she tries to find  _anything_ that might even work, and Junpei is shouting about getting him to Tartarus so all the Dark Hour healing mechanisms can take effect.

Shinjiro laughs. It’s an ugly sound, bubbling with blood, but something about it blooms and draws everyone’s attention to him, glassy-eyed, heavy breathing, and he’s shaking.

(No, it's Akihiko that's shaking. He’s taken the hint that he probably shouldn’t shove Shinjiro around too much anymore, instead leaning down to meet him, holding him closer in his arms.

Shinjiro's own voice sounds far away, but Akihiko’s choked back sob is so close that it sounds like it’s coming from within him. It’s a sound he’s somehow intimately still acquainted with.

“Hey. I’ll take care of her.”

“Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t even take care of you.”

“We trying to outdo our own dramatic final words, now? You never fuckin' give up. Don't tell anyone, but I'm not complaining that you got me back in the end.”

He figures he can have one last bout of selfishness. And Akihiko isn’t allowed to make fun of a man dying in his arms. It's just not gentlemanly. So this dumb non-competition, it’s in his favour, isn’t it? No one else is gonna hear it, anyway. And if they did, they better not say a damn thing. He'll come back from whatever afterlife there is and whoop their ass.

They don’t say exactly they want to, but both of them get their point across.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. where the wind blows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've lived together before, but now they're together _and_ living together, which is a whole set of obstacles on its own.  
>  [vague domestic AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't fuck around with that everyone lives tag  
> "how does any of this make sense" it's cohesive in my head. please believe me

 

 

It’s stupid, the way it happens. 

When all is said and done, it’s only natural that the two of them would move in together. Their apartment is cheap, in between Akihiko’s university and Shinjiro’s work, and has enough kitchen space for the latter to be satisfied.

Koromaru comes with them, and with Koromaru comes Ken. The Arisatos have room for the dog but not for Ken—with Aigis, that’s way too many people—Iori’s place is too small, Mitsuru and Takeba have moved too far away, Yamagishi’s engineering schedule doesn’t leave her with enough time.

So, Shinjiro and Akihiko. And Ken. And Koromaru.

Akihiko’s attempting to pull an all nighter again, as if Shinjiro couldn’t see the stream of light coming from underneath the crack of his door. He’s got half a mind to charge in and tell him to stop studying, because his final is at eight in the damn morning and it’s already three, but he grabs a glass of water first. Stupid idiot probably isn’t even hydrated. Setting a bad example for Ken, too, but that kid’s on an entire other plane of preteen existence.

He walks in. He doesn’t knock, and the door isn’t ever locked except for rare times, anyway. It’s been like this since they were young, and especially now it’s easier to leave the doors cracked open so Koromaru can shuffle in and out.

The blinds are slightly open, and Shinjiro can see the slivers of a pale white moon. Most of the lighting comes from the warm lamp Akihiko has on his desk, pointed at haphazardly opened textbooks with neon highlighted lines. There’s a pile of papers next to the desk on the ground, and Koromaru is snoozing softly beside them. Probably for moral support, but the dog can probably only take so much medical ramblings before he dozes off.

Hell, even Akihiko’s barely awake. He knows that look. His face is in the configuration of intense concentration, but Shinjiro knows that the way his eyes are glazed over betrays the furrow of his brow. “Oi.”

“Welcome home.” Tired as he is, he never misses a beat.

“Go to bed.”

“No.”

That’s the answer he had expected. “At least drink some water.”

It’s then that Akihiko turns his attention away from the textbook to look at Shinjiro. “Huh? Oh. Thanks.” But it’s weird—it’s like he hasn’t even looked at the glass of water. Just keeps looking at Shinjiro with tired eyes, like he can’t quite register what he’s seeing.

He’s really fucking out of it. And Shinjiro knows it for sure because of the next thing that comes out of his friend’s mouth. “How was work?”

 “What? Weren’t you about to drink water?”

“I’m not allowed to multitask?”

“You can barely do one thing at a time right know. Aki, go to bed.” Shinjiro sets the glass of water down on the last space on the desk untouched by paper and pencil, and he waits until Akihiko’s hands move towards the glass to relax.

He takes a sip. “So? Work?”

It’s not like the sentiment was unwanted. It was just so—unexpected, somehow. On good nights, Akihiko would already be asleep, and Shinjiro would wash up quietly and slip into his own bed. On test nights, Akihiko is usually focused enough to accept whatever snacks or drinks Shinjiro leaves for him without speaking. Maybe a quick back-and-forth about how he should be sleeping, but the conversation is more of a tradition than an attempt to convince each other to stop worrying.

But now, Shinjiro sighs. Akihiko might not sleep, but at least he’s resting like this. He sits on the bed behind Akihiko, who swivels around in his chair to face him. The half empty glass is sitting back on the desk. “You should really drink more of that.”

“Mm.”

“The moon’s full. Yoshino called in sick again. Mostly quiet, though. For a Thursday—”

Shinjiro is stopped dead in his tracks, which doesn’t happen often, because _this_ has never happened—okay, it has, but never quite like this—It feels more intimate, somehow. Akihiko’s closed his eyes and is resting his head in Shinjiro’s lap, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands, but somehow the most natural course is to brush his hands through Akihiko’s hair.

The squeak of the chair as Akihiko leans wakes up Koromaru, who sneezes before jumping on the bed next to Shinjiro. He’s boxed in, and he thinks that the dog is absolutely aware of what he’s doing, keeping him trapped with Akihiko in his lap.

Right. Akihiko. He’s saying things. “What for a Thursday?” He’s mumbling now, breath warm against Shinjiro’s leg.

“Not a lot of people.” This configuration doesn’t feel strange. At all. It doesn’t take that long for Shinjiro to build up a pattern of stroking his hair and gathering his thoughts somewhat. “Finals week, I guess. All the late nighters finally remembered they have to pass classes.”

“Mm.”

“Aki, go to bed.”

“Make me.”

It sounds non-confrontational, more of a request. So he pushes Akihiko into a sitting position again before putting his arms around his waist. “Up you go, c’mon,” he grunts, lifting the other up. “I know you can stand, Aki.”

“What if I want you to carry me?” When Shinjiro looks back at him, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t quite there before.

He can’t do anything but stare back at him. The stupid fucker is smirking, too, like he’s wanted this all along, and like he knows that Shinjiro’s wanted this all along. And Akihiko _looks at his fucking mouth_ to drive the point home, his breath is warm and fanning over his face, and Shinjiro licks his lips and his—Akihiko’s smirk only grows.

And that’s an invitation if he ever saw one.

But it’s not an explicit one, and so. “Break your legs and maybe I’ll consider it. Your legs seem perfectly functional.” Before he can watch Akihiko’s reaction, he swivels to drop him on the bed.

At least, that’s the plan, before Shinjiro remembers that Koromaru is still on the bed, not looking like he’s going to move any time soon. He stumbles over himself trying to move the trajectory of two young men so as not to crush a medium sized dog, and both of them hit the bed ungracefully. Akihiko’s mouth bangs into Shinjiro’s forehead, and when they’ve regained their bearings, Akihiko immediately complains.

“Fuck you. My teeth dug into my lip.”

“Blame Koromaru. He didn’t move.”

“Can’t believe you had to resort to making me bleed to get me to sleep.”

“You never learn a lesson unless you sacrifice some blood,” Shinjiro groans, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Now sleep.”

Akihiko stays lying down, eyes half-lidded. Slits of light shine over him, and Shinjiro thinks, _he’s glowing. He’s really fucking glowing in the moonlight_. Waxing poetic isn’t his thing, but he thinks he could make an exception this one time. Or, fuck, any time he gets caught off guard by Akihiko like this. It’s the damn stupidest thing he’s ever done, getting sappy like this.

“I can’t sleep if you’re staring at me like a weirdo.” Akihiko’s smile is light, stress-free, completely at ease.

His eyes are then covered by Shinjiro’s hand, who leans in so he’s hovering just above his face. “Now you don’t have to look at me.”

What the hell. He’ll deal with this shit in the morning. Neither of them are fully awake. Whatever. Shinjiro leans in, leaving his hand to cover Akihiko’s face, and presses their lips together.

Akihiko’s lips are a bit chapped, and maybe there’s not the spark that everyone talks about when kissing someone for the first time. But Shinjiro isn’t worried because it just feels _right_ , like they’ve both been waiting for the other to come home, and it’s better than any tale of electric kisses and an adrenaline buzz.

He feels Akihiko smile against his own lips, and he only thinks, _you smug motherfucker._

Shinjiro doesn’t remove his hand from the other’s eyes until he’s sitting up and facing away. He swipes a hand over Koromaru’s ears and has his hand on the doorknob before Akihiko says anything.

“You gonna greet me like that every time you come home now?” It’s a bold statement, so he turns around, raising an eyebrow at the boy still sprawled out on his bed.

“You want me to?”

“I dare you to.”

“Asshole.” Shinjiro knows that Akihiko’s winning this one, because he can feel himself smile, even after he’s tried to hide it.

“Goodnight to you too.”

 

* * *

 

Akihiko comes home from his morning exam, takes one look at Shinjiro’s figure in the kitchen, and turns bright red.

Shinjiro doesn’t even turn around, but Akihiko knows he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face right now. “Welcome home, Aki.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

* * *

 

It's raining. It always seems to be; other couples have _their songs_ , but all Shinjiro gets in the slam of raindrops against the window and Akihiko sneezing every three seconds.

He sighs, wringing out a washcloth and putting it back on Akihiko's forehead. "Idiot—”

"Yeah, yeah, shouldn't have gone out in the rain, blah blah blah." Akihiko shuts his eyes (fuck, it's bright) and repeats Shinjiro's warning with a blocked nose. Not even Koromaru's come to visit, he laments, he's left with just Shinji to chastise him. "Idiots don't get sick. You're an idiot, Shinji."

"You're a fucking moron. And if you don't stop talking, I'm going to shove this cloth in your mouth."

"That'll kill me."

"That's the idea."

 

* * *

 

They don't celebrate Christmas. They're not particularly festive people; Akihiko tries to spend time with Miki in the hospital, and Shinjiro’s never particularly had a desire to celebrate with anyone else other than the remaining Sanadas, anyway. It’s felt wrong to to be cheerful in the past, but it’s become more bearable the past few years, and for once in their life there is a _desperate_ need to celebrate.

It’s Ken and Koromaru's first Christmas without the impending threat of death to anyone or chaos of moving around, and it would be a sin of the greatest degree if they didn't make their first calm Christmas great, dammit.

The problem is Ken. Koromaru they can leave at someone else’s place for a few days, but Ken’s been coming home earlier—he’s got exams coming up, and he’s slowly taking on his seniors’ bad habits of staying up late in the morning to study.

There are only a few days in which Shinjiro and Akihiko have days off that coincide. Akihiko insists on wearing disguises just in case they run into Ken _(somehow, that kid better not be skipping class) (Shinji, you of all people?)_ , which is how Akihiko finds himself wearing a long trenchcoat and sunglasses in the dead of winter, and how Shinjiro finds himself wearing the stupidest puffy jacket that Akihiko could find.

And sunglasses. Absolutely fucking useless.

Shinjiro spits out the fake fur lining the hood of his jacket for the umpteenth time that day. “I look like a fucking marshmallow.”

“Good. No one expects Aragaki Shinjiro to look like a marshmallow.”

“I can’t see shit.”

“I still have visibility. This is a team-building exercise.”

Akihiko goes for the most brightly-coloured _(messy,_ Shinjiro laments) and outright cheesy decorations. But it’s not at random; there’s a method to this Christmas madness.

“So, Miki’s been pretty stable lately,” he says cheerfully. “Usually I’m helping the nurses decorate her room with all this stereotypical Christmas stuff. I’m like her Sanada Claus. Get it? Like Santa—”

“I get it, Aki.”

“Yeah. I was thinking of going through the whole ho-ho-ho thing, grab a white beard, but Ken’s like a completely different twelve year old than she is. ”

“Koromaru would probably try to rip off your fake beard. Hell, _I’d_ try to rip off your fake beard.” It’s rare that there isn’t a hint of regret in Akihiko’s voice, that he doesn’t tense without realizing, so Shinjiro bites back anything he had to say about the decorations.

Even if they’re disgustingly cheesy.

 

* * *

 

Akihiko’s natural state is shirtless, if he had any say in it. He restricts it to people that know him well, but since Ken’s been living with them, he only does it in the summer. (Winter months in the dorm with the others was spent shirtless with a blanket wrapped around him. And every time that ridiculous display had come walking down the stairs into the shared common room, Mitsuru had turned down the heat ever so slightly. That was a damn challenge if he ever saw one.)

The breeze is sporadic, cool, refreshing rather than biting at his skin. This is one of the hottest summers that Akihiko can remember, and he only really notices because this is the most he’s seen of Shinjiro’s skin (in public) since they were little.

Shinjiro’s ability to regulate his body heat is lackluster at best. Akihiko’s always stuck close to him anyway, and since Koromaru is a cuddle beast, it’s almost like he’s got normal human circulation. Now he also technically has Ken, but among their many understandings with each other is that Shinjiro _obviously_ does not cuddle, and even if he did, it would not be Ken.

Akihiko accepts that. In fact, he insists on it. Because even if he’ll never understand what it feels to be wearing sweaters in thirty degree weather, he fully understands the gentle sigh that Shinjiro doesn’t even bother hiding at the end of a long day, pressed up against him, eyes drooping closed.

 

 


	3. moon's reaching out to stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The what-ifs of school.  
> [Persona Q-verse]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still playing through Persona Q but far enough that I forgot what the exact dialogue was, but I think I got the gist of it.

“I’m Hanamura Yosuke. I’m Souji’s partner!”

“Partners...huh. Like Shinji and me!” At the orange haired boy’s words, Akihiko snaps his fingers, like something’s just made sense, like it didn’t in the first place or anything.

Shinjiro runs a hand over his face in exasperation, willing for the floor to collapse under him. It already did an hour ago and tossed them into this culture festival, it can damn well do it again. “I don’t think that’s what he means—you know what? Never mind.”

As everyone continues introducing themselves, Aigis moves to stand next to him. “Actually,” she says, which is already a bad sign because she’s absolutely about to say something embarrassing and incredibly true. More so in this weird universe, because she’s been cheeky. “I may not have much data on Hanamura and Seta, but it seems as though, in comparing pulse patterns, changes in body heat, and speech patterns—”

 _"T_ _hank you,_ _A_ _igis,”_ Shinjiro grits through his teeth. The saving grace is that the only people within hearing distance is him and Akihiko, and Akihiko is enough of an idiot to not be listening to the conversation. Maybe he’d get a fucking clue if he did, but Shinjiro doesn’t have _that_ much faith in him.

Aigis, thankfully, stops. She really has been cheeky lately, and he doesn't know how Ikutsuki could have possibly programmed her, because she's actually funny now. Maybe it's because she's away from Tartarus, so she's less shadow-focused or whatever. Even Mitsuru's less on edge; after all, it’s been a while since they’ve been able to enjoy themselves like this. Shinjiro figures that the space and its configuration has a more calming effect, being a culture festival and all.

"You are welcome. However, I have not completed my report. As I was saying—"

"No, no, I got the point." He scratches the back of his neck and looks away. "And Aigis, didn't anyone ever tell you not to assume, because it makes an ass out of you and me?"

Aigis considers it briefly, which is also one of the bad signs. "I understand. It is a wordplay on the spelling of assume and the pronunciation of the letter u as the word 'you'; very clever, Aragaki. Please wait a moment as I add this saying to my database."

It’s kind of funny that even the most removed and possibly normal school experience they could have still requires them to put their life on the line. As normal as a bunch of kids shooting themselves in the head for supernatural powers can be, anyway. "Other than Teddie, the other side is so _normal high-schooler_. You got anything exciting on them, Aigis?" Shinjiro asks, trying to change the subject.

"Not particularly. But continuing with my report, Aragaki, would you not consider feeling affection for a close friend part of the normal high school experience?"

Before now, he would consider correcting her, trying to get her to not listen to whatever shit the others can make up sometimes. But she's better at distinguishing what is proper information and what isn't than she lets on, so he doesn't even want to respond to her curious eyes. "Shut up."

"Understood."

 

* * *

 

He spots Shinjiro standing with their leader, and Akihiko grins. _Can't escape from me._

“Wish I could help, Arisato, but I’m being dragged around by a complete idiot.”

“There you are,” Akihiko says, interrupting their conversation. “You talkin’ about me?”

“Speak of the devil.”

“You think you can run away from me when we’re not even through all the games yet? There’s a ring here with your name on it and it’ll find its way to you whether you like it or not!”

There’s a split second of hesitation before Shinjiro frowns. “Sorry. Looks like that’s my cue to go. Good luck with the curry.”

“Mm. Thanks, senpai.” Arisato nods. As he walks away, Akihiko grabs at his elbow and tugs him over to the ring toss booth.

“By the way, why’d leader look dead inside?”

“The quest—no, never mind. He’s about to do a strength trial or something.”

Akihiko shrugs it off. Knowing the nature of the quests, it shouldn't be anything serious. It’s been so long since he’s been able to be carefree with Shinjiro; he doesn’t even know if he’s been this carefree at all. It’s been so long since Miki, since Amada’s mother, since Shinjiro himself—it’s been an eternity, maybe, since he’s even seen Shinjiro at school. He’s even somehow looked less grumpy throughout the culture festival even throughout the absurdity. Getting him to string along into playing silly games like this was easier than he thought it’d be. Hell, getting him to _smile_ was easier than he thought it’d be.

And not one of those damned smiles is the sad one, the smile that isn’t really a smile. The one that Shinjiro came back with, the ones that remind Akihiko he’s a dead man. The smiles that Shinjiro brings with him to these games is the one he misses the most. It’s contagious. It’s a wonky smile, one side of his mouth goes up more than the other, his nose kind of eternally crooked, but he looks more carefree. More handsome, really. Akihiko’s sure that if, two years ago—he’s sure that if Shinjiro even liked school enough to go in the first place, he’d grab attention himself.

(He wouldn’t change anything for the world if it came down to it, but to see Shinjiro smiling again? He’d put up a good fight to get him back to the dorm, and he’ll put up a good fight for that too, if it ever came to it.)

“Oi, Aki. You spacin’ out? Does that mean I win?” Shinjiro’s smirking, but it’s also an invitation. _What’s on your mind?_ he's asking. _  
_

“Nothing. Just thinking. If you came back to school, hung out with me and Mitsuru in classes.”

“Isn’t the fact that I’m at the dorm enough for you?” Shinjiro’s starting to retreat inwards again. “Or is it just that you want me to scare away all the girls that keep following you around or whatever?”

“Nah, just thinking that if you were around, we’d have even girls more following us.”

Critical hit. Shinjiro’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting the response. He opens his mouth to quip back, but nothing comes out. Akihiko laughs to himself, grabs one of the rings sitting in the bucket in front of Shinjiro, and tosses it.

The clattering of plastic against glass, and the ring’s landed perfectly around the neck of the bottle. “Well, looks like you owe me.”

 

 


	4. changing states

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihiko thinks, and he revels in the ability to do so because the past few months—god, _years_ now—have been nothing but _act, react, react, react._  
>  [vague apocalypse au]

Akihiko thinks.

The alarm bells and the explosion and the unravelling of the world are not as loud as his thoughts, but that’s because he’s too lost in them, and sound is relative to those who observe it.

It’s not much more comforting because his thoughts are as chaotic and destructive as the danger that rattles the walls and breaks the windows. A shard nicks him in the cheek and he thinks, _maybe_ _I_ _should have learnt_ _more_ _first aid_ before moving from his position next to the window.

(He knows fully well that there are no first aid protocols for bringing someone back to life once they’re dead. He learnt this with Miki, with Ken, with Minato, with Fuuka—)

The world takes care of taking Akihiko apart from the outside while a whirlwind of thoughts take him apart from the inside.

He brushes a finger over his cheek. He’s bleeding.

 

 

 

Shinjiro’s bleeding. _Who’s the bigger idiot now_ , Akihiko thinks, and he revels in the ability to do so because the past few months—god, _years_ now—have been nothing but _act, react, react, react_.

In this moment, now, there’s not much to act about, because Shinjiro’s growing pale. Aragaki Shinjiro, his oldest friend before the world tore itself apart from the seams, _Shinji_ still has the audacity to roll his eyes, a facade of normalcy through death.

"Just when I thought you were getting good at doing the right things in an emergency, you stand there and stare at me."

Akihiko knows first aid, of course, it’s a necessity, but both of them are very aware of the fact that there’s not much left to be done except watch him die. “I don’t know, Shinji, the—the metal pole look is good for you.” He laughs shakily, gesturing towards the offending item sticking out of his body. _(Corpse, soon, but don't think about it—)_

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

Shinjiro’s laugh is barely a laugh; it’s a wheeze, and instead of spittle it’s blood that flies out of his mouth and onto Akihiko’s hand. And Akihiko doesn’t know how his hand has gotten to where it is, cupping Shinjiro’s face gently, and he doesn’t know how his thumb swipes over Shinjiro’s lips and smears the blood further. His body and mind are far disconnected from each other but both focused on Shinjiro; the physical world is crumbling beneath his feet _(the building is shaking)_ and Akihiko's world is fading away beneath his palms, having the gall to laugh at him.

They had more of them, once. They all had things they were good at, and now that it’s only the two of them, he curses. Specialization at its worst. He thinks it’s because that giving each other separate roles would mean that they would operate as a single unit for much, much longer than this; everyone could hope.

Akihiko thinks—and thinks, and thinks—as he rips the gun out of Shinjiro’s hand, a little more forcefully than he’d meant to. The magazine skitters across the floor and he’ll maybe have to get that later. He doesn’t know why, he panics as he rests his head on Shinjiro’s chest and looks up at him, he doesn’t know why bother throwing the gun away. Maybe it’s because his hands are too already too scarred to hold the weight of the world. He doesn’t know much about anything anymore.

Shinjiro’s blood is staining the cracked, ugly porcelain beneath them and the setting sun bleeds through the window onto everything else. Once upon a time, this building might have been nice. The Fall has been happening long enough that the buildings are decrepit and many of the goods have been looted, but Akihiko thinks that this might have once been a nice place to live with someone. With Shinjiro. There was a university nearby, too, wasn't there? The two of them and Mitsuru, they’re at the age where if they’d been in university, they would have graduated. Ken and Miki would have just entered high school. The others would be in their final year, maybe.

Akihiko feels more than hears the long shuddering breath that Shinjiro takes. Their friendship has always been easy, uncomplicated. If Shinjiro can pretend, so can he. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do? You said so yourself, I’m the biggest idiot on the planet."

Shinjiro raises an eyebrow and moves his head just a tiny bit. The full weight of the gaze Akihiko’s been trying to ignore hits him all at once, confusing and turbulent and all at once: _If the_ _dorm_ _building were still standing—you left your toothbrush at my place_ _._ _Y_ _our hair sticks up like a rat’s nest._ _Remember the stupid fist fights we used to get into,_ _and how every time we stopped talking to each other it felt like the end of the world_ _?_

Something a little more heavy.

 _Hey, idiot,_ _I'm dying._

It’s not until Shinjiro’s eyes curve up into small crescents that Akihiko thinks _oh_ , because the red that’s bled around him had taken more than just blood from his heart. The statement sounds ridiculously campy, completely against Akihiko’s style: Shinjiro had poured his heart out to him, in front of him. He considers saying it out loud so Shinjiro can make fun of him.

Ha ha ha. The laugh that never escapes his mouth is as bitter as the taste of bile and he’s not sure it’ll ever leave him.

 

 

 

(And when Akihiko burns Shinjiro’s body later in the dead of the night, when he watches his sparks fly up to the sky and join the stars, that he thinks, finally: _he’d like to join them._ )

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "STOP KILLING SHINJIRO" NO!!!!!!!!


	5. wheel of fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Thirty of) 50 word prompts.  
> Basically just domestic fluff galore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost the post that had these prompts on it; I also... didn't get through all 50 prompts, but I think I did alright for someone that's never picked these up.  
> Mild mild mild spoilers for Persona Q; also, these aren't in chronological order! If it gets overly confusing feel free to just be like "hey what was up with that"

**1\. Blame**

The mechanical voice booms throughout the gaudy pink walls of the labyrinth. “Quick!” it says emotionlessly, “Your beloved is in danger. What will you do?”

Akihiko freezes, fists tightening despite the knowledge that the voice cares not for the inhabitants of the room other than their silver-haired leader’s answers, and even then it’s debatable. Souji answers with something self-aware and charming, and the group discusses his answers as the chains holding the door collapse, revealing the next section of the labyrinth.

Their group, now double the size of what they used to have, walks through. All except one.

“You comin’?”

“What would you do,” Akihiko blurts out, an echo of old conversations, a combination of newer ones, “if you saw someone you loved in danger?”

He knows Shinjiro knows this conversation, too. “C’mon, Aki,” he responds. And then, quieter, more cautious: “Aren’t you already doing enough?” he responds. The obtrusive pink lighting in this group date labyrinth somehow makes Shinjiro’s face look simultaneously softer and reveals all his tiredness.

For a brief moment, Akihiko sees flames before his eyes, a decrepit building collapsing on himself, hands holding him back. He sees Shinjiro standing beside him, soot on his face but feet planted heavily on the ground. Shinjiro in the now stands much the same way by this doorway that is more than twice his height, leaning almost nonchalantly against the weight of the open door—but Akihiko knows the doors in these labyrinths open automatically, and to keep them open with one’s strength is a feat on its own.

The others are exploring the area; it seems to be fairly closed off, with no shadows or FOEs in sight, and they lean against the walls or sit by the peculiar trenches of dark red water, commenting on love and life and the faint smell of roses.

If she were still alive, Miki would be around Rei’s age, wouldn’t she? They might have made good friends, if this dimension even existed.

Throughout his inner monologue, Shinjiro stands patiently, door still open, the others beginning to cast odd glances at them.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

“That’s what I’ve been tryna say all this time,” Shinjiro mutters, letting the door swing shut behind the two of them.

**2\. Proof**

Akihiko clings tightly to Shinjiro when he sleeps. When they were little, he and Miki would usually cling to each other. After the fire, it was Shinjiro, because he _needs_ that anchor, and some time during high school he starting wanting it, too.

It’s when he realizes how much he wants it that it gets taken away from him. After the incident, it’s rare that Shinjiro will go back to the dorm with him, and even rarer for him to stay the night—but sometimes, their conversations carry on for too long, and the Dark Hour kicks in, and at that point, it’s easy to convince Shinjiro to stay the night, for Akihiko to wrap his limbs around him again and get a restful sleep for once.

(It worries him how Shinjiro gets colder. It worries him the most when Shinjiro lands himself in a hospital bed, unresponsive, Akihiko’s hands clawing at nothing.)

And now, years after The Fall has been stopped, Akihiko crawls into bed with his hair still damp, yawning. His hands are still cold and he knows it pisses Shinjiro off, so he drapes an arm over Shinjiro’s side and shoves his hands up his shirt.

The reaction is immediate; Shinjiro jerks out of reflex and the back of his head hits Akihiko’s forehead, and his voice is hoarse as he says, “asshole, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Missed you too,” Akihiko mumbles into the nape of his neck. He feels his shoulders hunch up—he’s ticklish—but Akihiko knows he’s too tired to quip back, and he feels Shinjiro sigh, take his hand, and kiss his palm.

“Now go to bed,” he grumbles as if it were a real inconvenience.

Akihiko tightens his grip a bit stronger. (These days, Shinjiro’s bones don’t feel ready to shatter under his touch, as if he were to turn to dust any moment. But it doesn’t hurt to be sure.) “’Night. Love you.”

Shinjiro mumbles something into the pillow that sounds like _love you too_ , like he’s still embarrassed about it. Akihiko smiles, and it’s the last thing he remembers before sleep takes him.

**3\. Assistance**

Sure, Castor’s kept his physical strength up during his coma. And between work and living with Akihiko, Koromaru, and Ken, he’s not slacking in exercise either. But he doesn’t go out every night anymore lugging around an axe bigger than him and swinging it like his life depended on it (because it did, once upon a time), and he doesn’t get into as much fights as he used to anymore, so he’s healthy, but not that _strong_ anymore.

He has two grocery bags hanging off each arm as he makes his way up three flights of stairs to the apartment, because the elevator is broken and there’s no way he’s calling to see if anyone’s in there to help him, because he doesn’t need it. Really, he doesn’t. No one uses the stairs anyway, so no one can see him take a break at every floor landing to rest.

It takes an eternity to get to the front door, and he swears under his breath as he tries to balance all the bags and fish his keys out of his pockets. He doesn’t get the time to find them, because right at that moment the door swings open and Akihiko nearly runs into him, leash in hand and Koromaru at his feet.

“Need, help, Shinji?”

“No.” He tries to side shuffle between Akihiko and the door frame, all the while feeling his stare on him. “Stop staring. You have places to be.”

“If you say so,” Akihiko says, but _really_ he’s saying _are you sure?_

**4\. Going**

“If you’re going out, bring an umbrella, at least,” Shinjiro grunts, trying not to look _too_ relieved when he finally lets the grocery bags down. It’s his way of saying _yes, I’m perfectly fine, and you?_

“No need.” Akihiko takes it as a challenge, because of course, he does.”Koromaru and I will be so fast we won’t even run into the rain.”

“At least take Koromaru’s rainjacket.”

Koromaru whines.

“You wore a shirt as your outfit for two years and now you complain?”

Koromaru barks as Akhiko yells, “Bye, Shinji!”, and Shinjiro scoffs when the door closes behind them.

**5\. Birthday**

A few blocks away from their apartment, Akihiko slows down. “Now, Koromaru, you’re gonna have to help me. You think Shinji knows what we’re up to?”

Koromaru wags his tail and continues to stare at him.

“Yeah, I hope not.”

**6\. Silent**

“You see what Junpei’s been carrying?” Shinjiro asks as Akihiko slouches next to him on the wall, in the corner where he’s been hiding out from the party.

“What? Does he have a weapon on him or something?”

Somehow, Akihiko’s mind’s gone straight to battle. “Really, I’d hoped this group was past the point of wanting to kill me,” Shinjiro mutters.

“I do indeed have a weapon on me, Akihiko-senpai! Great observation!” Junpei proclaims cheerily, and _where the hell did he come from?_ “Pucker up, lovebirds,” Junpei says, _obviously_ proud of himself, holding a plastic candy cane decoration over them. Tied on the curved end is plastic mistletoe, hanging like bait on a rope.

Everyone else is huddled in the doorway watching them intently, waiting for something to happen. (Tch.)

Before the other two can react, Shinjiro reaches up, takes the mistletoe, and pops it into his mouth. He chews it thoughtfully as he looks Junpei in the eyes. The three of them are silent, standing their ground, until Shinjiro breaks it all by grabbing a napkin and spitting the mess into it.

“I can’t digest plastic, and I don’t want to start now,” Shinjiro admits.

No one knows how to respond.

“I... didn’t expect Shinjiro-senpai to resort to that sort of strategy...” Fuuka says, dumbfounded.

“I can respect it,” Minato says, nodding. Kid’s weird, but at least he’s always got his back.

**7\. Behalf**

They should be way too old for this shit, but here he is, making dinner on a Wednesday night while Ken, Koromaru, and Akihiko are out playing superheroes. He gets a call, _again,_ for the second time that week already, and he can guess who it’s from before he even looks.

Sighing, he spares a second to look away from the stove to answer the call. The voice on the other end is familiar and professional, as always. “Good evening. Are you Sanada Akihiko’s next of kin? You’ve been listed as such.”

“The weather’s kinda shit here, but how are you, Mitsuru?”

“It’s protocol, Shinjiro, the call is being recorded.”

“The SDSRU is barely legal, but sure, I’ll be a good boy for the Kirijo records. What’d the idiot get himself into this time?”

**8\. Rumor(ed)**

Akihiko might be an idiot, but Shinjiro sure as hell isn’t. He sees the way Yukari and Fuuka talk on the couch, Yukari glancing at the two of them every once in a while and Fuuka remaining tight-lipped—she’s probably got a better idea of what’s going on than the two of them, because Akihiko is an idiot and Shinjiro is a denier. At least Fuuka’s not saying anything, but that might just be because she’s scared of him.

He scoffs and tips back further in his chair at the kitchen table. Fuuka gets the hint; he hears the topic change.

**9\. Tip**

Yukari is sipping at her “coffee”—really, a sweet coffee-flavoured confection—and her eyes sparkle with mischief as Mitsuru puts her own cup down. Mitsuru’s got a muted version of Yukari’s expression, and Akihiko almost regrets his questions.

“What are you smiling about? I’m asking for help here,” Akihiko snaps. “You too, Mitsuru, I didn’t expect you to be so casual about this.”

“Akihiko, please, don’t get me wrong.” Mitsuru smiles. “It’s simply refreshing that we live in a time in which this sort of conversation can happen.”

“Yeah?”

“Akihiko-senpai, you have a crush!” Yukari beams, and Mitsuru tuts.

“Patience, Yukari.”

But it’s too late. The damage has been done. “A _what?”_ Akihiko says, more annoyed than ever.

Mitsuru sighs as Yukari continues. “A _crush_ , Akihiko-senpai! I mean, you come to Mitsuru and say you feel sick and your stomach hurts, and it’s nothing Shinjiro-senpai cooked, so _obviously_ it’s Shinjiro-senpai _himself,_ you can’t even look him in the eye _—_ ”

“That’s why I asked Mitsuru about my symptoms,” he grits, “for a more _medical_ opinion, not for some childish interpretation of them.” He knows even as it comes out of his mouth that it sounds absolutely _idiotic_ , that there’s no way that explanation even makes sense. When he was fourteen, fifteen? Sure. But he’s almost twenty and he doesn’t want to think about this anymore.

“Akihiko,” his old friend says, with nothing but amusement in her voice, “I’m afraid that I have to agree with her.” The expression on her face says that she absolutely is not afraid that she has to agree with Yukari, and Akihiko shuts his eyes in frustration.

**10\. Idle**

His hands are his weapons, and so he takes care of them.

This might be bordering on obsessive tonight, though. He’s checked every stitch on his gloves at least four times, has filed his nails and lotioned them more than necessary, and even as sits wondering what to do next, he drums his fingers on his desk.

He has night classes, which means he’s the only one in the apartment right now. Ken will be in school for the next four hours, and Shinjiro’s at work, and Koromaru—

Koromaru _could_ use a walk, Akihiko decides. Koromaru usually appreciates his extra energy, takes him on winding streets for hours. But for now, he’s got the meeting with Mitsuru and Yukari on his mind, which means he’s got _Shinjiro_ on his mind.

A crush. He’s not oblivious. He knows that these things happen, but he doesn’t have a _crush_ . On _Shinjiro_ . That’s _absurd._ He loves Shinjiro, yeah, he’s his best friend, he’s been there through thick and thin, they’ve fought each other more times than he can even count, and Akihiko can appreciate that.

And he appreciates that Shinjiro looks out for him in the most backwards of ways, that Shinjiro puts everyone else first so frequently that it hurts to watch him sometimes. He loves the way Shinjiro cooks—not even just from a quality standpoint, but (much like Akihiko puts pride in his fighting, Mitsuru in her sharp mind) that he has talent and pride and dedication to what he loves (as much as he tries to deny it). He still remembers when (when _was_ that? He doesn’t truly remember) Mitsuru praises him, saying that his cooking transformed their dorm into a place more high scale than any top restaurant.

There’s a sudden beeping and Akihiko jumps; he reaches towards his phone and checks the message. It’s from Yukari, with nothing but a smug-looking kaomoji. And pixels have no right looking that smug, so he tosses his phone on his bed, and tries not to think about picking it up and calling Shinjiro and asking _hey, are you free on Friday?_

**11\. Brother**

The first time they fight— _really_ fight, fists meeting flesh and concrete scraping skin—after the Amada incident, Akihiko picks up a beer bottle from the dingy alleyway they’ve found themselves in and throws it at the wall, with no real intention of hitting Shinjiro.

The glass shatters, and Shinjiro freezes in his tracks so absolutely that Akihiko can see all the emotions on his face before he can throw a mask back up: terror, regret, guilt. Akihiko knows that his face is a mirror image of Shinjiro’s, brothers in arms, played by the gods.

**12\. Redecorate**

Shinjiro doesn’t even break his nose during a _fight_. It’s Akihiko standing in front of him, arms raised, frowning in determination. Miki’s off to the side looking concerned, but with her, it makes three of them that know Akihiko can’t be stopped now.

 _I want to get stronger,_ Akihiko had said while Miki had put bandaids on him sloppily. He’d gotten into a fight trying to protect his sister again, and Shinjiro was there to bail both of them out, _again_ . _Strong like you, Shinjiro._

 _You’re dumb,_ he had said, _just stop picking unnecessary fights._

It had somehow led to the three of them at a park near the orphanage, just before dusk.

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I trust you, Shinjiro!”

“...Okay.” He can’t really argue with that, so he swings.

**13\. Afterthought**

When Shinjiro told him to put a goddamn shirt on for once in his life, he somehow didn’t expect Akihiko to start wearing only Shinjiro’s shirts exclusively.

**14\. Shield**

Comas don’t work like this; he’s not an idiot. The doctors call him a miracle. He calls his miracle C _astor, that bastard_. His body has no business being as functional as it is right now—he’s been still for months—but he’s not the focus of the doctors anymore. Now the hospital is full of simultaneously awakening Apathy Syndome sufferers and Shinjiro’s got no problems but he’s got a bed; he knows when he’s unwanted, so he’s held for an unnecessary day, takes his clean bill of health and goes. He’s gotta grab some stupid clothes from the gift shop, but better than walking out bare ass naked into the streets.

He has a vague idea of what’s happened while he’s been asleep, which is amazing considering that most (if not all) of the other Apathy Syndrome sufferers had a fair amount of memory loss and general physical atrophy. His memory before his sort-of-coma is perfectly intact, and he has the briefest flashes of the moon opening up and swallowing their someone whole—just those sorts of things. Nightmares.

On March 6th, he exits the hospital and his feet lead him to the front steps of the dorm. He was released in the morning, of course everyone’s at school, so he lets himself in and stops in the doorway.

“Koromaru?”

He’s met with silence. Odd, but that dog’s got weird sleeping patterns sometimes, so he shrugs it off and heads back to his room. It’s empty, of course; the door is unlocked and there’s an empty cardboard box collecting dust on his desk. Maybe someone was starting to pack his stuff before realizing he had none.

Really, it’s too much to think about now, so he drops onto his bed and sleeps.

His dreams are—well, he dreams, now. You don’t dream in comas. Whatever he had before was just Castor being an asshole. _Did you see that, Shinji?_ Dammit, Akihiko, he sure did, because Castor wouldn’t stop doing weird persona things and kept giving him snippets of Tartarus and the full moon.

But now, they’re nothing special. It’s more that he wakes up with the knowledge that he’s dreamed but without knowing what it was about. The days are getting longer, now. It’s dusk when he wakes up again, and his mind is still foggy, so he autopilots down to the first floor, to the lounge.

Everyone’s head whips around to face him, and he realises he must look like even more of a mess than usual. He’s been in a bed for just over five months now, after all, and he’s in a plain shirt with a bunny holding balloons on his sleeves, and he looks like he’s about to keel over.

It’s Mitsuru that speaks up first. “Shinjiro,” she whispers, like he could fade away any moment (and he doesn’t blame her for it, either), “when did you get out of the hospital?”

The doctors told him the time and date, but the his grasp on the passage of time still isn’t the sharpest. “Yesterday was graduation, right?” It’s not the first time he’s spoken more than a word since he’s woken up, but now it feels like it’s taken all of his energy just to get those words out.

“...Yes, it was,” she replies, still awed.

“This morning. I woke up yesterday. Sorry I couldn’ get to the roof,” he mumbles, and that’s the response that triggers something from everyone.

It’s a flurry of movement; the juniors bury their faces in their hands, close their eyes, look away. Aigis is nowhere to be found, Ken bites the inside of his cheek, Koromaru whines, Mitsuru is still looking at him, her eyes a mixture of disbelief and compassion.

Akihiko knocks into him with a hug so fierce he loses his breath for a second. Shinjiro allows himself to wrap his arms around the other just to anchor himself, he thinks, and nothing more than that.

**15\. Misquoted**

Akihiko doesn’t even like protein powder that much anymore. Really, he added it _once_ to one of Shinjiro’s meals, _once_ , and every meal after he kept saying _“you better not put that protein shit in it again,_ ” and goddamn if Akihiko doesn’t hate being told what to do like that.

**16\. Copying**

Ken’s a lanky motherfucker. He’s gotten tall—puberty is an absolute _monster—_ and Shinjiro figures it’s time that he learns how to cook.

The kid’s cooked before, when he was doing a late shift. Hell, Ken would cook because Akihiko doesn’t want to (or can’t), and Shinjiro’s just glad that at least _someone_ in the house hasn’t become a leech.

Back then, Ken used to need a stool to see properly over the kitchen counter. Now, he stands fine, almost as tall as Akihiko (and damn if it doesn’t piss Akihiko off, but it’s kinda funny). Gotten a little more snippy about being treated as a kid, but better than he was at that age.

Y’know, before everything.

Cooking’s the one place they’ll meet halfway; Ken will stop trying to do everything on his own for a second, and Shinjiro’s patience is at its highest when trying to make sure the people under the same roof as him won’t kill him with their food.

Honestly, he’s pretty good at cooking already, for someone that’s never been formally taught. Shinjiro knows he’s been watching; even when they got Ken a decent desk, he would still work on his homework at the kitchen table, usually while Shinjiro was cooking. The kid’s bright, and it’s a relief after trying to teach Akihiko or Fuuka. He just needs a bit of guidance, some support while he experiments, and he’s good.

The entire experience is actually a fairly quiet affair; short instructions, some questions here and there, but Shinjiro doesn’t have a whole lot to teach him for this particular recipe.

It’s usually Ken that breaks the silence. “So,” he begins as he’s chopping vegetables, “how come you’re teaching me to cook and not Akihiko-san?”

“It’s a good habit to learn. We’ve been out of the house a lot lately.”

“Yeah, but why not Akihiko-san?”

“Because he’s useless in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, but you can make him _not_ useless.”

“If you wanna try, then go ahead."

They leave the pot to simmer and Ken pauses for a second before he tries to fill the silence. “...Did you learn to cook when you were little?”

Here, Shinjiro hesitates. That requires talking about a past before the incident, which is still a grey area. He knows Ken knows that too, so for him to ask something like that—Shinjiro treats cautiously. “School food was expensive, so we never did that. And orphanage food sucked ass. Once, I snuck in to find out how they managed to make it taste so plain, and one of the chefs caught me snooping around.” Shinjiro smiles a lopsided smile and continues. “Before he could say anything, I asked straight up why the food sucked, and I forget what he said.

“The next day, I got put on food serving duty. Thought it was a punishment before I realized it was just a way to officially get me into the kitchen at least for a few minutes so I could learn. Looking back, maybe they just wanted free labour. But if anything, I learnt how to cook on a budget.”

“What was Akihiko-san up to during that time?”

“He and Miki were bugging me for food all the time, even though I was only supposed to officially be a food server. No one was supposed to find out. They caught on eventually, but by that point I had enough under my belt and support from the kitchen that I could ask them about whatever and they’d help me.”

“Miki?”

Oh, shit. Akihiko’s certainly mentioned his sister before, what had happened to her, his fond memories of her, but it was rarely by name and rarely anything so casual. And Shinjiro _knows_ he tries not to mention her in front of Ken; he’s still aware of how Ken looks up to him, and even now Akihiko tries not to reveal his weaknesses.

It makes sense Ken would forget her name. Akihiko never mentions it. “...Aki’s sister.”

“Oh. Um... sorry I asked.” He has the look on his face of regret from asking the question, but also of very personal understanding. It’s times like this where Shinjiro remembers he’s not just a persona user, or an insufferable teenager, but sometimes just as a fifteen-year-old kid who’s seen too much shit in his life.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Shinjiro says somewhat awkwardly.

**17\. Argue**

And then, inexplicably, he adds, “she was a good kid. More stubborn than Aki.”

“Wait, that’s possible?”

“Yeah. You think one Sanada is bad? Getting both of them trying to argue with you was like fighting a losing battle. I got experience from all my years of fighting with Aki, but Miki added years of practice for stubbornness.”

Ken’s smile is at first wistful, and Shinjiro wonders if he’s crossed the line they have about not talking about their life before October 4. But then he grins, and it looks genuine, and then he says, “Little sisters are like that, huh? Nakamura’s got a little sister, too, and she’s a little devil. Kinda fun to play pranks on him whenever she plans them, though.” He snickers, and Shinjiro internally breathes a sigh of relief.

The timer goes off, and as they check the pot, Shinjiro goes, “hey—”

“Don’t tell Akihiko-san? Got it,” Ken says, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

And the conversation ends.

**18\. Bell**

The clock strikes twelve and in a corner, slightly away from the rest of their friends, Shinjiro pulls Akihiko in for a kiss. He’s never done this before—a new year’s kiss—and it’s kind of awkward because it’s the corniest thing he’s ever done, and he knows Akihiko knows it because it takes him a split second to react to the contact before reciprocating. He can feel Akihiko smile smugly against his lips, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry about it.

The kiss maybe goes on for a little longer than they think, because they’re suddenly knocked out of it by a balloon bouncing unexpectedly off Shinjiro’s head.

It’s bizarre. Two years ago, the world nearly ended. Now, the same group celebrates another year of being alive, and Shinjiro is holding Akihiko in his arms and kissing him, and the others are playing with party blowers and throwing balloons around.

“Oh!” Fuuka covers her mouth with both of her hands, and she looks more embarrassed than either him or Akihiko. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt with my balloon...!”

Playfulness like this comes easier some days than others, even though it’s not perfect. Shinjiro picks up a balloon off the ground and bounces it off Fuuka’s head before she can react.

Shinjiro smiles.

**19\. Fancy**

“Shinjiro-senpai?”

Oh, fuck. Shinjiro pretends he doesn’t hear Yukari’s voice from the other end of the aisle and continues looking at the clothes on the rack, completely at a loss.

“You can’t hide from me,” she says playfully. Noting the pensive look on his face, she follows up with “what’s up?”

“None of your business.”

Shinjiro decides the worst thing about his juniors not being scared of him anymore is that they’re all incredibly nosy. “You looking for an outfit for you and Akihiko-senpai’s date?”

He decides the second worst thing is that they all talk to each other and pass information around way too easily. Not that it’s much a secret, but someone else saying it out loud makes it more... official. Weirder. Shinjiro says nothing.

“Well, aren’t you lucky,” Yukari continues, and Shinjiro decides the third worst thing is that they talk nonstop. “I can get us discounts here, so just let me know what you decide on, ‘kay?”

There’s no damn reason to be going out and buying new clothes. His wardrobe’s a bit limited, sure, he’s got just enough for casual every day clothes and a few nicer things for work, but buying clothes just for a _date_? With _Akihiko_? He scoffs and jams his hands in his pockets. “I’m not getting anything.’

He makes a motion to leave and Yukari says, “aw, really? It might catch Akihiko-senpai off guard. He was talking to Mitsuru about dressing up himself, but I don’t know what he’s going with. And,” she leans in closer, “I’ll say I’ve got better fashion sense than Mitsuru does.”

“And?”

“I’m saying, I can help you out. Surprise Akihiko-senpai by looking all-dressed up and really good. He won’t even know what hit him. C’mon.” She makes a motion for him to follow, and he does, because she raises a good point. A part of his mind knows she’s played his competitive side, and another part imagines the look on Akihiko’s face when he shows up in something that’s not his everyday attire, and all in all he’s inclined to believe it’s a good idea.

**20\. Away**

Their first kiss goes like they’d expect.

They’re not really calling them dates yet—they’ll work up to that—but they’re back from one of their nights out, where it’s just the two of them after the sun has set and the city has quieted down. They’ll talk like they always have, but now when they walk side by side, neither of them pull away. In a way, everything has changed.

Akihiko grabs a can of coffee from a vending machine on the way back to their apartment, sitting in a quiet street home to a quiet neighbourhood. Shinjiro continues telling his story and suddenly he can’t, because Akihiko drinking isn’t something new, but everything’s new now, so he has to reprocess everything—Akihiko’s hair is glowing even more under the streetlights, a halo of silver framing the face of a prince; there’s a quirk to his lips and suddenly there are piercing gray eyes staring right back at him.

“You pass out in the middle of your story, Shinji?” Akihiko quips, and the next thing Shinjiro knows, his mouth is on Akihiko’s.

His lips are kind of chapped, but they’re soft at the same time somehow—he feels Akihiko jolt in surprise under him (when did his hand find Akihiko’s face? When did Akihiko start leaning into his touch?) and he springs backwards, looking anywhere but Akihiko.

“We should go,” Shinjiro mumbles, already shoving his hands in his pockets, “you have an early shift tomorrow.” Akihiko responds with silence, and he’s afraid to turn around and see the look on his face. Surprise, for sure. Annoyance? Anger, even? Disgust?

His left hand is taken out of his pocket and is guided towards Akihiko’s right, and their fingers intertwine—just _briefly,_ Akihiko’s thumb stroking over the back of his hand—before he lets go again. (Shinjiro misses him already.) “Sure.”

**21\. Champagne**

It’s a queen’s wedding, Shinjiro thinks to himself. Fit for two queens actually, the ones that are dancing their first dance together on the dance floor, lost in their own world. And hey, they deserve it; all of them have been though some shit, and to be this happy given what they’ve seen in their life is a miracle of its own—not to mention he’s honest to god legitimately happy for them. Being optimistic about life comes easier these days, and the scene fills him with hope for his own future, whatever that would be.

The lighting is soft and warm, chattering down to a minimum, the love and awe so strong that it’s almost palpable—when the dance floor opens up, inviting the rest of the guests with sweet, slow, songs, Shinjiro finds himself extending his hand to Akihiko (who accepts, with a smile that says everything words cannot).

**22\. Dull**

Shinjiro spent two years distancing himself from Akihiko, from Mitsuru, from SEES and the Dark Hour, and Akihiko realizes as he watches Shinjiro wake up from his coma: _this is the most lifeless he’s looked, all this time._

**23\. Frozen**

Akihiko still has nightmares where Shinjiro dies. It’s been years now since the stop of The Fall, years since Shinjiro awoke from his coma, and he still gets these dreams. Other people have dreams well into their adult years that they’ve forgotten to attend an exam and they fail; Akihiko knows these dreams will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Sometimes, Akihiko doesn’t wake up with the smell of gunpowder and blood clouding his head, doesn’t claw at the sheets next to him to find that Shinjiro is still there, warm but cranky when woken from sleep. Sometimes, Akihiko dreams of the slower deaths; the ones where Shinjiro doesn’t regain his memory, where he’s marked off as a victim of severe Apathy Syndrome and sent back into the rehabilitation centres with no official record of his identity. Here, Shinjiro will run into Akihiko in some ordinary way—on the street, or at the grocery store—and Akihiko will watch their life flash before their eyes as Shinjiro spits, _W_ _ho the hell are you?_

**24\. Stumble**

There’s a silence as they place their orders and the waitress walks away, in which Akihiko hears Shinjiro whisper “This is dumb,” scratching the back of his neck and looking away. They’re not at anything super fancy, but it sure as hell ain’t their usual beef bowl or fast food place.

Both of them are dressed up more than their usual everyday outfits, and Akihiko has a sneaking suspicion that Yukari and Mitsuru got to Shinjiro too, because he looks—he looks good. Whatever look they put on him, it works really well.

But—“What do you mean, ‘dumb’?”

Without a menu to hide behind now, Shinjiro seems to shrink into himself, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years, so what’s the point of this, anyway?”

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s just weird. People usually do _this_ to get to know each other better. What the hell do I _not_ know about you, Aki?”

“Why do you have to be so pissy about it,” Akihiko snaps. He’s embarrassed too—both of them are, that much is obvious—and arguing is kind of like normal territory, so they might actually be able to get something done here.

“’Cause it’s _stupid_ , Aki, we didn’t have to do this.”

“We didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Is _that_ stupid?”

“Yeah, because _you’re_ an idiot, and it’s _your_ plan.” It lacks any sort of bite, because Akihiko can tell he’s not _really_ angry; he’s just getting more and more embarrassed.

“I’m hungry enough to eat two servings, if you wanna leave,” Akihiko offers. “You can pay me back later, too.”

Shinjiro huffs, and Akihiko knows he’s won. “Been a while since I ate something nice that wasn’t my own cooking,” he mutters, still not making eye contact, “it’s fine.”

**25\. Gibberish**

Shinjiro’s sitting on the couch, TV turned down to the lowest volume while still being audible, when Akihiko comes back from a late shift at the station. He slumps down on the couch next to Shinjiro, who shifts slightly to make room for him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Akihiko droops all the way down into Shinjiro’s lap, and Shinjiro lets him. Innuendo aside, late nights of physical activity are nothing new to them—Akihiko even says sometimes that the nights after Tartarus were harder than his busy nights at the police station—but it’s tiring all the same.

“Long night?”

“Yeah. what’s for dinner?”

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Shinjiro says, unperturbed by the question. An energetic Akihiko’s pretty much the same, his mind going off on its own tangents and his speech only expressing the tail end of the thoughts, so he figures it’s another one of those things where he’s just forgotten to go through his entire thought process beforehand. “We ate dinner before you left.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Shinjiro puts the remote down and lets himself relax, now that Akihiko’s come back home safely. His breathing slows, eyes drooping closed, when Akihiko speaks up again.

“Lately, dinner’s the only time I get to spend with you,” he mumbles before finally succumbing to sleep.

**26\. Weak(ness)**

Grocery shopping is a pain with Akihiko; he somehow manages to charm free samples from the ladies in the aisles— _somehow_ charms because they’re already free anyway—and he always gets lost in the vegetable aisles, and Shinjiro doesn’t let him push the cart around anymore because he keeps running into shelves. When he’s got his eyes on the prize, he forgets he has to push the cart straight down the aisle, rather than crash into it.

On the contrary, the supermarket is methodical for Shinjiro. He has a plan for every aisle, taking only what they need, despite what Akihiko might say. Akihiko, of course, tries to sneak things in.

It’s rare that Shinjiro will allow whatever Akihiko adds to the shopping cart. It usually ends with Shinjiro, unimpressed, throwing a packet of paperclipped coupons at him. “If they’re not on sale or have a coupon—no.”

Today, Akihiko tries to sneak in some sweet potatoes. He’ll let this one slide, for now.

**27\. Wind**

It can’t be something that happens all at once if it’s always been there, but that’s the _whole problem_ with him and Shinjiro—it’s always been there, so how does he know when it starts in the first place?

Akihiko’s normally one to jump straight into action. he’d been quick to enter fistfights, in SEES he’d have a constant desire to engage in battles he might not even be fully prepared for, and it’s only really been lately that he’s had the luxury of thought.

After moving constantly forward for years, everything barrels forward at the same speed; his thoughts constantly run through problem/analysis/solution, almost itching to be in fight/flight.

The problem with thoughts is that you can’t think something and then unthink it; in fact, the more you try to unthink something, the more you latch onto it, and soon everything is a whirlwind of _when did_ _I_ _start loving_ _S_ _hinjiro?_

The answer is easy—always. He loved him like he loves Miki, like he loves Kotone, like he loves Mitsuru. But then he catches himself— _I_ _loved him? Past tense?_ And then the question becomes: when did one kind of love turn into another? When did Shinjiro stop breathing life into him, tragedy after tragedy, and start taking his breath away?

**28\. Temptation**

Shinjiro is eight years old, and he hates this boy with the silver hair. He hates that he is being treated as a charity case, because he knows Sanada Akihiko is the most open-minded, adventurous, _stubborn_ kid in this stupid orphanage, and he hates the way all the other kids stare and whisper when Sanada walks up to him for the fortieth day in a row and asks to be friends, like it’s that damn easy.

He considers it on the forty-fifth day when Sanada, being the idiot that he is, gets into a fistfight with the other kids (who Shinjiro thought Sanada was actually on good terms with) because he’d been making friends with the weird kid. Shinjiro _has_ to intervene when S anada’s sister shows up and tries to join the fight—she’s a frail little thing with just as much stupid loyalty as her brother (ignoring the fact that S hinjiro’s never even met her), and, well, now he _has_ to.

He has to hold back Sanada’s sister first before throwing his own punches. Sanada (Akihiko) thinks it’s cool that he swooped in and was a hero like that, and Shinjiro smacks him on the head for getting into useless fights for useless reasons.

“But we’re friends, aren’t we?”

That’s the first time Shinjiro can’t resist answering, ever so hesitantly, in the affirmative. He gets the feeling, even as Sanada (Miki) starts yelling at him for holding her back, that it’ll be far from the last time.

**29\. Eighteen**

Akihiko’s resolve is ignited. _Always seek answers. Seek the truth. Fight for what you believe in._ _Leave no room for interpretation._

"Should we... y’know, go on a date?"

Akihiko is half dead from his shift at the station, boneless on the couch, and Shinjiro’s barely through the door when the question is thrown at him. The apartment smells like freshly-made cup noodles (to Shinjiro’s chagrin) and the curtains are half-drawn in the way Akihiko’s learnt Shinjiro hates, because even just looking at the snow gets him cold—but then again, he’s always cold.

They’ve known each other for a long time, now. At the same time, their eyes are drawn to the half-assed coloured lights above the curtain (purely for Ken and Koromaru, even though a dog can’t celebrate Christmas, but Shinjiro insists that Koromaru is absolutely more than _just a dog_ and Ken deserves to have a good holiday, and despite Ken’s worrying that the cheap lights would be a fire hazard, it's been up since November and nothing's happened yet)—

—Ken emerges from his own room, pencil tucked behind his ear and yawning, without any sort of surprise in his voice: "Are you finally making things official? About time."

Koromaru plods behind him, barking in confirmation.

**30\. Rhythm**

Akihiko’s been visiting the hospital daily for almost a week now. It’s like something keeps telling him to come back, like the beeping of the machines that Shinjiro is connected to is sending him messages through its mechanical beeping—

 _(_ _Your beloved is in danger. What do you do?_

And isn’t it kind of a joke that through the labyrinths, they had all relived her life from unfair birth to death? Maybe she and Miki _are_ getting along, wherever they are. She’s finally found some peace like that, perhaps, as painful as it was to regain the memories she had.)

—He remembers something that he shouldn’t be able to.

_(Living is not breathing, but doing._

And Akihiko’s turned training into an art, fighting into something that needs no second thought. It’s his daily life now, just a habit, and it’s all so he can get stronger to protect the ones he loves; it’s second nature, like the way a heart beats without being told to. He thinks he’s been straight on his path the entire time, not losing sight, but Shinjiro’s laying on a hospital bed in front of him and hasn’t he failed, then?)

The rhythmic beeping gives way to his thoughts, and finally, Shinjiro’s voice. It’s clear as day, ringing in his head.

_(“This is the way it’s meant to be.”)_

“You give up so easily sometimes, idiot,” Akihiko says. He picks up his jacket, slings it over his shoulder, and his shoes click as Polydeuces becomes Caesar, keeping Shinjiro close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "how is Minato alive in 6 but dead in 14" I never said he was dead >:)   
> >:)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks to my friends who enable me to post writing
> 
> come say hi on the [Twitter™](https://twitter.com/discoprince) or [tumblr](https://plansgonebust.tumblr.com) if you wish to do so! despite what conclusions of my demeanor you draw from my writing i guarantee you i just shitpost


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